The Acrostic Paradise Lost by John Milton and Terrance Lindall

Turned he thereby again to praise that tree of Death,
Enaml’d sleek neck fawning with bated breath,
“Mistress I Thy celestial beauty do adore.
Powerful perswaders are that alluring fruit, for of
Those apples I spared not eating my fill.
Strange degree of reason then to worship thee with love.
Eve fixed upon the fruit, she gazed. His argument
Veritable truth to her seeming, she listened thus
Enchanted by the serpents words, but soon lamented.
The guiltie serpent intent now wholly
On her taste naught else regarded.
She Plucked, she eat!
In that evil Hour
Nature felt the wound.
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